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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324203">Nights Like These</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Scribe/pseuds/Agent_Scribe'>Agent_Scribe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, lots of being soft and such, minor rott spoilers ahead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:21:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Scribe/pseuds/Agent_Scribe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>sleep does not always come easy to the inhabitants of the Attolian palace, for many reasons</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Attolia | Irene/Eugenides, Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes, Relius/Teleus (Queen's Thief)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nights Like These</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gen sits up, tired of tossing and turning. Running his hand over his face, he glances over at Irene and smiles. His beautiful wife, his treasured queen. He slips out of bed and walks to the window, leaning against the casing, pressing his forehead to the cool glass. His phantom hand throbs and he won’t be able to settle for hours. If there was lethium in the room he could take it and sleep, but the last bottle Petrus had left him was empty. Nights like this - warm, still, moonlit - often call him to the gardens; there in the still darkness he can wander the paths and think, just flowers, dirt, the moon, and a thief-turned-king. Sometimes he picks flowers and leaves them on Irene’s bedside table, little arrangements for her to see when she wakes. Tonight he picks xiphium and anemones for her and finds a patch of warm earth to lay back and watch the stars, tracing the shapes of the constellations, thinking about the gods and men they represent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamet puts down the papers he is pouring over and looks over his shoulder at Costis, sleeping soundly in their shared bed, taking up almost all of it like the bed thief he is. He knows the hour is late and he should sleep. He cannot bring himself to try though, not yet. Nightmares have visited him nightly this week making sleep an ordeal. Perhaps a walk in the gardens will help settle him more. He blows out his candle and walks carefully through the dim palace. Even after all this time, it is difficult for him to remember, sometimes, that he belongs here. Night birds sing but the garden is quiet besides, until he hears shuffling and sees a dim figure on the path before him. “You too?” they ask, and Kamet realizes it is the king.<br/></span>
  <span>Kamet nods. “So, so, so. Costis woke me snoring,” he lies.<br/></span>
  <span>The king gestures to the ground beside him and asks, “Do the Mede have stories for the stars, as we do?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Oh yes, many,” and Kamet launches into an explanation of Mede myths and constellations and He breaks off after several minutes and says “Oh, I have talked too much, I will leave you to your quiet.” <br/></span>
  <span>He turns to leave but the king says, “No, stay, I would love to hear more. And sit, no need to loom over me so.” Kamet hesitates and Eugenides pats the ground. “I am asking as your king and your friend; sit.” Kamet sits. They talk about the stars, both forgetting their pains for a time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pheris is lying on a couch in front of the best window in his rooms, reading. His bad leg is aching too much to sleep well, so he hasn’t bothered going to his bed. The couch is comfortable and the moon is full and bright, providing excellent light for reading. When Gen had insisted he move to his own apartments, Pheris had chosen rooms with large windows and room for plenty of chairs, couches, and cushions. There were many frustrating and complicated things that came with being the new Baron Erondites, but the ability to be extremely comfortable was not one of them. Putting down the letters - some new mathematical proofs sent along by the magus - he looks out the window. The guard is changing and he can almost hear their conversation in the courtyard below. Both Relius and Kamet have teased him about being distracted by the guards, but, in Pheris’s opinion, they have very little room to talk, considering the lovers they’ve chosen. He shifts, trying to ease the pain in his leg, and picks up the letters again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deeper in the palace, Relius starts awake and gasps, struggling to get his bearings. There is a warm body next to him, a familiar ceiling above - he is in the palace, Teleus beside him. Safe. He is safe. Taking a few slow breaths, he tries to steady himself, slow his pounding heart. Sleep will not be returning to him, not for a time. Perhaps he should get up, take a stroll around a courtyard. His breathing is still uneven. As he reaches for the blankets Teleus says “Nightmare?” Ah. So he is awake as well. “Yes. Won’t be falling back asleep easily.”<br/></span>
  <span>Teleus reaches out, pulling Relius closer. “I can’t seem to sleep either, tonight.” Reliu’s ear is pressed to his chest and his husband’s voice is a deep rumble.<br/></span>
  <span>There is quiet for a time as Relius breathes deep and Teleus strokes his hair. The adrenaline of the nightmare slowly fades and Relius closes his eyes, savoring the quiet closeness. Then he rolls up on one elbow. “Well, if neither of us are going to sleep…” he says, slyly, and Teleus laughs, a short bark, a laugh Relius loves surprising out of him. <br/></span>
  <span>Teleus turns to face him, cupping his face. “Oh?”<br/></span>
  <span>Relius hums, leaning his cheek into Teleus’s hand. “We could take a turn about the garden, perhaps?”<br/></span>
  <span>“If you like.” Teleus’s other hand is wandering.<br/></span>
  <span>“Mmm, or we could stay right here in bed.”<br/></span>
  <span>Teleus pulls him in for a deep, slow kiss. When they break apart he murmurs “Whatever you like, my love.”<br/></span>
  <span>They do not go to the garden.</span>
</p>
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